


Venice

by knapp_shappeys



Series: The Grand Tour [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knapp_shappeys/pseuds/knapp_shappeys
Summary: “Did people take their pleasure when the sea was warm in May [...] When they made up fresh adventures for the morrow, do you say?”
Relationships: Theresa of Liechtenstein & Arthur Shappey & Douglas Richardson
Series: The Grand Tour [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986562
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Project Theresa (Theresa Takeover 2016)





	Venice

“Here, take a look at this.” Douglas slowed down as they entered a silent piazza.

“Oh, lovely!” Theresa pulled her hand from his elbow as they surveyed their surroundings, picking up her camera to take a photo of the scene. “It looks like it could be a set from a movie,” she remarked aside to the third member of their group.

“We took an actress here once.” Arthur paused as he took a picture of a pigeon rendezvous on a bench with his phone. “Well, not  _ here  _ here, but Italy too. It was where they were going to make a film. Just remembered that.”

“Hm, maybe we should  _ not _ ,” Douglas mused from where he was looking back and forth between the opposite ends of the piazza. “Hey, you two, did you notice? Two churches.”

“Wonder why they built them across from each other?” Theresa ventured, making a mental note to try and get the complete story out of Martin at some point. 

“Perhaps so you could choose which one you wanted to go to,” Arthur guessed. “Ooh—or maybe they have competitions. Like which church can get more people in it before the service starts.”

“I’m not terribly sure that’s how Catholicism works, though I’m sure Theresa  _ might  _ just have a clue, given the whole Catholic empire lark…” 

“And I keep telling you, we’re  _ not  _ Habsburgs, they just appreciated us enough to give us a principality.” 

In response, Douglas gave her a lopsided smile that made it clear he was being a tease on purpose. Theresa returned a mock-glare and carried on snapping photos.

“But also,” Arthur continued, “maybe it would be useful if you just wanted to avoid someone for the day, like  _ oh there goes Juliet again, I’d be better off going to the other church today.  _ Something like.”

“Fair point.” Douglas shaded his eyes and peered at a bulletin board installed near one of the church doors. “Though, Arthur, I don’t think Juliet would have come out here anyways, she’d have lived on the mainland. You know, ‘in fair Verona, where we lay our scene’...”

“Perhaps she was out sightseeing? Like we’re doing now.”

“Do you know, Arthur—I think that could possibly be it.”

“Brilliant!”

Theresa slid the lens cap back onto her camera. “Want to move on, or stay?”

“Did you get all the pictures you wanted?” Arthur asked, shading his own eyes to gaze at the buildings surrounding the otherwise silent piazza. “For yourself and for Martin.”

“Yes, I think I have.” Theresa adjusted her scarf and smiled at Arthur. 

“It’s a shame Skip couldn’t come along with us today.”

“I  _ did  _ tell him to go easy on the cuttlefish last night,” Douglas rolled his eyes as he offered his elbow to Theresa once more. “But he just  _ had  _ to eat like there’s no tomorrow.”

“But it  _ is  _ just an upset stomach,” Theresa smiled reassuringly at Arthur, looping her hand through Douglas’ elbow. “He should be fine tomorrow, and we  _ do  _ have a few hours before the next client shows, don’t we?”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Arthur grinned back. “Speaking of eating, are you up for lunch? I think I saw a restaurant in the wall back near that church and the one boat stop.”

* * *

As it turned out, when Arthur had said  _ in the wall,  _ he was being literal. The three of them found that if they chose to eat in it, they would be taking up too much space in the little room; they therefore resolved to take their food with them. After ordering slices of pizza, the three of them perched on the side of an old well, the boat taxi dock and Grand Canal in view.

Boats passed to and fro as they ate in companionable silence.

She had studied some poetry; that was part of her education. Browning had helped her with English. He’d written some of Venice before, and Theresahad read it: “What, they lived once thus at Venice, where the merchants were the kings?”

Palaces lined the Grand Canal—if Theresa put on her imagining cap she could see the ladies and gentlemen sweeping through their corridors in glittering clothes and gaudy costumes, music and laughter and moments stolen from the crowd. Maybe some of her ancestors had come here, brushed elbows with Venetians, all good fun in a world where that was what they lived for.

But “Venice spent what Venice earned,” and now  _ that _ was all gone, and yet Theresa knew there was no place she would rather be than here, far from those old sinking vestiges of grandeur, just eating pizza in the open air with her friends. 

**Author's Note:**

> there really is a restaurant in the wall near that boat taxi stop, next to an anglican church. the pizza is filling.
> 
> the poem theresa is thinking of, and the quote in the summary, is “A Toccata of Galuppi’s” by robert browning. it’s absolutely weird to think that almost exactly one year ago, i was doing an oral presentation on that poem. don’t ask me to analyze it. i will go on for forty minutes straight about it. 
> 
> (ms j*lie i am so sorry and also thank you for letting us go on for forty minutes straight about it.)


End file.
